On My Way to the Kitchen

They say that gratitude is the highest form of prayer - that what we appreciate and are thankful for grows. I don’t doubt the wisdom and - truth of this, yet I question the extent of its application and practice.

I know that most days I forget to take notice as my feet slide into soft, cushiony slippers when I arise from a warm comfy bed. I forget again, while on my way to the bathroom, that it’s my strong legs that take me there, or that water runs onto my hands as soon as I turn a knob. As I reach for my toothbrush I can see my face in the mirror but I don’t think to give thanks for my bright eyes (though nearsighted) that still serve me well and are filled with kindness. I have not yet left the bathroom and already there are hundreds of things I could be grateful for if only I remembered. Instead, most days I simply go about my morning routine, taking hundreds of everyday miracles for granted.

My bathrobe lies waiting for me, along with my dog, Max, who’s eager to begin the day. His eyes meet mine, waiting for my signal to exit the bedroom. His happiness is boundless as he leads the way pounding loudly down the stairs. In contrast, my own happiness is too often conditional, affected by oh so many thoughts clouding my mind. But this morning, for one brief moment, I take in the pleasure of his expectant and soulful eyes and hurry down the steps after him, grateful for a new day.

I open the door to let him out. He doesn’t notice if it’s cloudy or cold. He simply rushes ahead at full speed. I move more slowly, eyes still half closed, head still fuzzy, convinced as I have been for years that it takes at least 2 full cups of coffee before I can begin to think clearly, let alone appreciate anything.

I start my trusted Mr. Coffee and immediately begin preparing the morning meal for Max and Lee, my cat, who could care less that I’m shredding a roasted chicken as fast as I can into his bowl. He takes it for granted that his food should be my first priority and that no appreciation is necessary. He torments me with his cries, while his indignant pacing interferes with every step I take. Max, on the other hand, waits at attention on the other side of the glass door, in a perfect pose of peace and patience.

Less than ten minutes have passed since I entered the kitchen and already I’ve forgotten the delight I intended for today, dulled by a morning routine switched to automatic pilot -until that first robust aroma of brewing coffee hits my senses and jolts me into awareness. Fully present once more, I look up and notice how much brighter the kitchen looks this morning. I stare out the window, past the now bare trees, seeing the light rather than the nakedness of the branches, grateful for the sun filtering through the panes, flooding my kitchen and landing on my face as I sip my morning nectar and greet the morning in full splendor, focused with gratitude.

May you have much to be thankful for at the beginning of this holiday season and always.

Chef Silvia